


the beautiful possibilities

by Philosoferre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Furniture Shopping, Gen, Humor, IKEA, IKEA Furniture, M/M, Shopping, Team Bonding, good old fashioned team bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 01:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: Steve said yes when Tony first told them his idea, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Key phrase: at the time. Steve is now fully aware that it was, in fact, a fucking terrible idea.





	the beautiful possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> I know I haven't uploaded a fic in months,,, here's some Avengers fluff that happens to take place in Ikea! Can you think of a better combination? I hope you enjoy!

Steve said yes when Tony first told them his idea, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Key phrase: at the time. Steve is now fully aware that it was, in fact, a fucking terrible idea. 

 

They just had to go to the Ikea on a crowded day, wearing all their normal clothes so that it’d be even harder to keep track of everyone. Steve is seriously considering holding them all on a leash. And why was he put in charge anyway? It was all Tony’s idea. He doesn’t even know where Tony went.

 

“What are we looking for again?” Steve asks, hoping one of his friends is somewhere in his near vicinity. Sure, there’s a map on the floor, and Steve’s holding one in his hands, but he’s stressed and directions aren’t his strong suit, okay?

 

“Anything and everything,” Clint says, tapping Steve’s arm with one of those small Ikea pencils. Tony has a secret collection in his lab. He refuses to let anyone use them, for some reason.

 

Steve frowns. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“We have to replace everything, remember? Because of that dumb Hydra attack,” Clint explains. He licks his ice cream and it ends up on his cheek. Steve doesn’t even know where he got the ice cream from. This is a  _ furniture store _ . “So Stark told us to “go wild” and just get whatever we want. He’s paying. I made sure.”

 

Okay. That makes a little more sense. But Steve still can’t understand why he was put in charge. Out of all them, he knows the least about this mysterious Swedish entity.  _ Ikea _ . This is his first time, and quite frankly, it’s terrifying. So many rooms. So much furniture. Lots of weird names only Thor can pronounce. Speaking of which-

 

“Where is everyone?” Steve asks. He nearly steps on a small child, clinging to her father’s pants. God, Steve hates crowded places. He always feels so big, out of place. The literal elephant in the room.

 

Clint shrugs. “I dunno. Nat’s… Nat went with your homeboy, somewhere, and I think Sam’s babysitting them. Maybe. Tony’s probably treating Bruce to a lunch date-”

 

“Lunch?” Steve’s going to ask about the whole date thing later. Right now, all that matters is that this fucking  _ furniture store _ sells food. He hasn’t eaten anything since last night, and he’s starting to get hungry. “Like, there’s a restaurant?”

 

Clint nods and plops down on one of Ikea’s couches. It’s dark grey, accented with bright throw pillows and a delicately placed blanket. Steve isn’t even going to bother trying to read its name. He writes it down anyway. 

 

“Ikea’s pretty good at the food part,” Clint says, stretching over the couch. A woman carrying a toddler shoots him a dirty look and he quickly takes his feet off. “We should go. Once we find everyone else.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, over his stomach’s loud gurgling. He’s pretty sure they’re lost. He can’t find them on the map. “And where’s Thor?”

 

Clint pulls him down and points at a section of the map. “We’re here, dumbass. And I don’t know where Thor is, but I’m pretty sure he’s still talking to that woman downstairs.”

 

“What?” Steve asks. He doesn’t remember seeing Thor talk to anyone besides them. He was probably too busy trying to keep track of all these grown-ass adults who are all acting like children. 

 

“She’s from Norway or something,” Clint explains, licking his ice cream. “So where do you want to go now?”

 

Steve looks down at the half-crumpled map in his hands and sighs. If Bucky isn’t going to bother to come with him to look at things, he might as well do it himself. “I do need a new bed.”

 

-

 

Steve doesn’t know if there’s such thing as a mattress heaven, but Ikea is definitely close. The first mattress he tries, which is too small to fit both him and Bucky (but according to Clint it comes in different sizes, whatever that means), has some weird infused gel that’s supposed to cool the bed or whatever. Steve’s not a mattress expert. Clint reads the tags, nods, and then gives him a thumbs up. 

 

Although Steve made it clear he really didn’t want Clint with him on the second mattress, he gets on anyway. Steve’s learned long ago that when Clint has a will, he has a way. The mattress is memory foam, whatever the hell that means. 

 

“Molds to your body,” Clint says, screwing his face up. “So don’t have sex for eight hours, or it’ll stay in that shape forever.”

 

Steve groans, burying his face in a pillow. That’s comfortable, too. “Jesus, Barton, that was one time.”

 

Clint clicks his tongue. “One time too many.”

 

Steve writes the mattress and pillow down, because he’s pretty sure Bucky would like it. He’s a little disappointed that he lost him so early. Mattress shopping for you and your boyfriend isn’t fun without the boyfriend. How the hell is Steve supposed to know what Bucky finds comfortable? 

 

“Oooh,” Clint says, sounding too much like he’s having sex, “try this one.”

 

The third mattress, which is way bigger than the first two and definitely has room for a dog, like Steve wants, is not as weird as the memory foam and softer than the gel, and it’s got springs - finally something he understands. He thinks this one would be good, and then he sees the price tag.

 

“Nine hundred?” Steve asks, nearly falling off the mattress. Clint laughs. “Nine fucking hundred for this?”

 

“Language,” Clint huffs, hands crossed over his stomach. He rolls over, laughing so hard he has to catch himself on the edge of the mattress. 

 

Steve whines. “Why?”

 

“Mattresses are expensive,” Clint says. “Did no one tell you that? Well, you either let Tony spend a few bucks on a bed for you and your homeboy, or you get a sleeping bag from Costco.”

 

Steve doesn’t know what Costco is, and at this point he’s too afraid to ask. So he just huffs and lays back down, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t know why he let Tony drag him here, because really, it isn’t a magical Swedish wonderland, like everyone claimed it would be. It’s a circle of hell, all heavenly furniture that costs a soul and a limb. Steve doesn’t have that kind of money to blow on one mattress. But then again, Tony did say he’d pay. According to Clint, anyway. 

 

“Tony _ is _ paying, right?” Steve asks, turning to face Clint. “You’re absolutely positive?”

 

Clint breaks into a shit-eating grin. Steve writes the mattress down on his list. 

 

-

 

Steve’s spinning in one of those damn office chairs he has no real use for, waiting for his friends to finally show up, when he sees Sam and Natasha hanging around one of the desks. Without Bucky. Steve’s going to kill them if they lost his boyfriend in pseudo Sweden. 

 

“Where’s Buck?” Steve asks, tapping Sam on the shoulder. He left Clint back at the bathrooms, where he was intently trying to find the difference between two different tiles. They don’t even need tiles.

 

Sam whips around, eyes wide, and lets out a breath of relief. “Don’t scare us like that, man.”   
  


“I wasn't scared,” Natasha says. “You’re just a baby.”

 

“Where’s Buck?” Steve asks, again. Maybe he’s more patient than he thought. He isn’t turning into the Hulk anytime soon, though, that’s for sure.

 

Natasha glances over Steve’s shoulder and frowns. “He should be in the kitchen section. Nearly had an orgasm when he saw that one oven.”   
  


“Oh, right,” Sam chuckles. He clasps his hands over his heart and, in the worst Bucky voice anyone can possibly do, says, “Oh, look at that beautiful electric stove! What gorgeous steel! Those oven racks!”

 

Steve tries to hold back a laugh, but it ends up sounding halfway between a choke and a cough. “You’re probably over exaggerating.”

 

They’re not over exaggerating. In fact, Steve would say that Sam’s terrible impersonation was an understatement. Bucky’s kneeling in front of the oven, staring at it in pure awe. Steve isn’t sure he’s seen a proper oven since… well, since before the war. Tony, being the control freak he is, hadn’t let Bucky use their communal kitchen for “fear of burning the place down”, or whatever he called it. Joke’s on Tony, Bucky’s actually a good cook.

 

“You dumping me for the oven or…?” Steve asks, letting out an amused huff. 

 

Bucky nearly falls over, startled by Steve’s presence. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

 

Steve chuckles. “You haven’t looked at me the same way you’re looking at that oven since 1944.”

 

“That’s ‘cause I died seventy years ago, and then I was too busy being an assassin. I didn’t have the time,” Bucky says distantly. He’s back to focusing on the oven. That’s how it’s going to be. Steve’s got serious competition. 

 

Steve laughs and fists his hand in the collar of Bucky’s shirt, pulling him up reluctantly. Bucky’s pouting at him and it’s too adorable to ignore. 

 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Bucky says. He steadies himself with a hand on Steve’s chest. “Let me make it up to you.”

 

He leans forward to kiss Steve, but Steve puts a finger on his lips before he can. “Please wait until we’re not in an Ikea.”

 

“The fuck is an Ikea?” Bucky asks. He’s cute when he’s confused.

 

Steve laughs. “The store we’re in, dumbass.”

 

Bucky presses his face against Steve’s neck, his cheek resting against his shoulder, and mumbles, “I wasn't paying attention.”

 

Steve laughs again, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair. He’s getting really hungry, and being around all these model kitchens isn’t helping. And besides, it’d probably be a good idea to find the rest of the Avengers, wherever they are. 

 

But on the other hand, Bucky’s right here, and he smells good, like Steve’s shampoo, and he’s being cute like he always is, and Steve doesn’t really want to let him go. 

 

“Come on,” Bucky says, tugging at the sleeve of Steve’s jacket. “I think I saw Wanda.”

 

-

 

They find Wanda by the restaurant, lingering by one of those model kid rooms. She keeps glancing back at it wistfully. Steve doesn’t think it’s a good idea to interrupt her, she’s probably deep in thought, but because he never actually gets a say in anything, Bucky drags them over and claps a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Hey Maximoff,” Bucky says. When she turns to acknowledge them with a sly grin, he pulls her into a hug. Steve didn’t even know they were friends. “Found anything you like?”

 

Wanda jabs at his arm. “A stick for your head. Fifty percent off.”

 

“Good one,” Bucky laughs. “Is there a matching one for Steve?”

 

“What?” Steve asks. The only thing he got out of this conversation was something about putting heads on a stick, and he’s pretty sure that’s illegal. In New York, anyway. 

 

Bucky ruffles his hair. “Don’t worry about it, old man. We’re just joking. Your head’s too pretty to end up on a lowly stick.”

 

“Yeah, grandpa,” Wanda teases. “Actually, I did find a few things, but I don’t think Tony will approve.”

 

Steve cracks a smile. “Even better.”

 

Wanda takes them around the colourfully decorated kids section, pointing out the bunk beds she thinks Natasha and Clint would appreciate and the flower-shaped night light she wants to hang above the door to Tony’s lab. 

 

“And we could get him one of those bean bag chairs,” Bucky says, nearly falling over in laughter. He’s always laughing at whatever Wanda says. Steve’s not jealous. “‘Cause he’ll never be able to get up after.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes. Firstly, Bucky’s like sixty years older than Tony, so his argument doesn’t work. Secondly, Tony would probably never use a bean bag chair. And thirdly, he realizes how much he sounds like a killjoy. Steve Rogers, mood-ruiner, back at it again. Here all week.

 

“Aww, Steve, we should adopt one,” Bucky says, pulling Steve towards a rack crowded with stuffed animals. He grabs a fluffy, patchy dog with floppy ears and pouts. “This one.”

 

Steve huffs. “Only if you’re responsible enough to take care of it.”

 

Bucky grins at the dog, and then at Steve, and then hugs the dog to his chest. “Her name is Princess, and I love her.”

 

“Princess, huh?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. He always thought Bucky would unironically name all his dogs Beast or whatever, something that sounds like a motorcycle gang persona. 

 

Bucky pats his shoulder. “I’ll have to think of a new pet name for you. Sugar? No, honey’s better.”

 

“Neither,” Steve says, like the helpful shit he knows he is. Bucky just rolls his eyes and follows him back to where Wanda’s sitting, frowning at a pillowcase.

 

“There’s eyes on this,” she says, fiddling with the fabric. “The whole thing’s covered in eyes. Who wants  _ eyes _ on their  _ pillowcase _ ?”

 

“Steve’s an exhibitionist,” Bucky says, all too seriously. 

 

Steve really wants to punch him, but he’s afraid of breaking the floor, and he kind of doesn’t want to get in trouble with Ikea. It’s his first visit, he can’t get banned so soon. Then again, Bucky’s an adult. He can handle getting punched by a supersoldier. 

 

Steve grumbles. “Am not.”

 

Bucky snorts. Wanda high-fives him. Steve’s entire day is going to hell.

 

-

 

“Darling,” Bucky suggests, while they’re browsing through market hall.

 

Steve throws a bath mat at him.

 

-

 

Clint catches up with them when they get back to the front of the store, holding yet another ice cream. Natasha and Sam are trailing behind him, each carrying at least four pillows. Steve just sighs. 

 

-

 

After at least three rounds across the entire store - none of which included food, because the world apparently hates Steve - they finally find Tony and Bruce near the kitchens, walking around an island like they know what they’re looking for.

 

“I think it’s fine,” Bruce says. He looks uncomfortable. Steve understands. He’s probably spent this entire time with Tony, and that’s an unfortunate circumstance to be in.

 

Tony waves his hand at him. “I haven’t tested it yet, Banner. Can’t buy appliances without seeing how strong they are.”

 

“Why do you need to know that?” Natasha asks, crossing her arms. 

 

Tony grins at her. “So that no more assholes can ruin my kitchen. I don’t like replacing appliances all the time.”

 

“Where were you?” Steve asks. He still can’t understand why he was the one put in charge. He’s never been to Ikea. He doesn’t have a degree in babysitting. He knows absolutely nothing about watching children. 

 

Tony looks confused, but then he just shrugs and goes back to pacing in front of the oven. “Here, obviously. What do you think of this one?”

 

“I saw a better one,” Bucky says. He leans over, tucking his face against Steve’s shoulder and grins. God, it better not be his orgasm oven.

 

It is his orgasm oven. It does have a nice polish, Steve will admit that, and it looks nice and shiny and brand-spanking-new. But everything else means nothing to him. Tony, apparently, understands a lot more about it.

 

“It’s nice, I’ll give you that,” Tony says, glancing at Bucky. 

 

Bucky gives him a thumbs up. “I told you. Lots of room inside and everything.”

 

“I can tell.” Tony opens the oven door and squats to look inside. He lets out a groan when he stands back up. Steve chokes, trying to hide his laughter. “Almost approved.”

 

Bucky stares at him for a solid minute. “What? Almost? Why the fuck-”

 

“Barnes,” Tony says, grinning like Satan. Steve sometimes thinks he’s actually a demon. It’s possible. There’s a lot of weird shit in this world. “I need you to do something. If it works, we can get this oven, the love of your life or whatever.”

 

Bucky breaks into a full-fledged smile. “I’m game.”

 

“If-” Tony points at Bucky’s metal arm and then at the oven. “ _ If _ you can’t punch through the oven - not the glass, the actual metal - then we’ll get it.  _ If _ .”

 

Bucky flexes his arm. Steve really wishes he was smart enough to back down from this, because either way it’s going to go terribly. He’ll either hurt himself, or actually break the oven, and neither situation sounds particularly good. Tony hovers behind Bucky as he kneels down, swinging his arm a few times, and then throws a loud punch. 

 

The oven doesn’t break, thank god. But Bucky’s arm does get stuck to it. Steve laughs quietly - the one thing Tony didn’t take into account was magnetism. That’s got to be the most ironic thing to ever happen.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky says, biting his lip. He tries to yank his arm away, but it doesn’t budge. He keeps making those cute growls, and after a few failed attempts, Bucky rolls over as much as he can and places a foot on either side of his arm. 

 

Steve hopes Bucky knows how ridiculous he looks right now. And never mind what he said about Ikea not being that great. 

 

“Well,” Tony says, crossing his arms. “I think we can get it. But you might want to let go, Barnes.”

 

Bucky growls, aimlessly kicking at the oven. “I’m  _ trying _ .”

 

Steve notices Natasha and Sam taking their phones out, but he doesn’t say anything. He’ll let them have their fun. Plus, this is a video he’d very much like to see in the future, probably later today, probably while Bucky’s fuming. 

 

“Can someone fucking help me with this fucking oven?” Bucky spits out, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed. Just as Steve maybe considers helping him, Bucky wrenches himself free and lets out a huff. He’s spread on the ground like a starfish. “Aw, fuck. That wasn't fun.”

 

Natasha snorts. “For you, maybe.”

 

“What does that mean?” Bucky narrows his eyes and sits up. “What the fuck, Natasha?”

 

Bruce sighs and smacks his hand against his forehead. That’s exactly what Steve’s feeling right now. For the hundredth time today, he’s wondering why he agreed to come here. It’s got to be the worst decision he’s ever made, and he’s made a lot of bad decisions. 

 

“Why don’t we go eat something?” Steve suggests. “I can’t be the only one here who’s hungry.”

 

Mostly, he thinks it’s a very good idea to distract Natasha and Bucky with food before they do anything stupid. And it’d probably be a good idea to distract Tony, too. He’s almost always on the verge of doing something regrettable, and being in public has never really stopped him. 

 

“They have meatballs here,” Steve says.

 

Bucky’s suddenly very invested in the idea of food. “I’m always a slut for meatballs.”

 

-

 

Steve finally gets some peace once the Avengers have found a table by the window and they’re all busy stuffing themselves with meatballs and some weird-ass “lingonberry” juice (though what that actually is, Steve’s not very sure). Now that he doesn’t have to spend so much energy babysitting everyone, Steve finds he doesn’t hate Ikea that much. Okay, it’s still a circle of hell, and he hopes he never has to come here again, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave without fond memories. And the kinds of stories he could say at someone’s wedding, just to embarrass them. Probably Bucky. Most definitely Bucky.

 

“So,” Tony says, shoving an entire meatball in his mouth, “I’m assuming you’re all done spending my money, then?”

 

Clint snorts like that’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. “ _ Done? _ Oh, Tony. Poor, innocent Tony. There’s no such thing as “done” when you’re in Ikea.”

 

“Dear lord,” Natasha mutters. She shakes her head. 

 

Steve groans. Beside him, Tony’s laughing into his hand, and he has no idea what’s so funny about this. At this point, no amount of torture could get him to step foot into an Ikea again, at least for another few months. 

 

“I’m never taking you back here,” Tony says, though it sounds much less serious than he intended. 

 

Bucky pouts. “But I had fun.”

 

Tony sighs. Steve wishes he could disappear behind the stacks of unnecessary pillows amassed around the table. Wanda looks like she’s struggling to hold in laughter, but once again, Steve doesn’t think there’s anything remotely funny about this situation. At all. 

 

The minute they finish their lunch, Clint drags Bucky and Natasha to go find whatever it is he still needs, and Steve ends up helping Sam and Thor load their millions of things into Tony’s fancy-ass van. Wanda went to go find everyone else half an hour ago, and Steve’s starting to worry she’s lost, trapped in a maze of furniture and mock apartments. 

 

“Damn,” Tony says, as he watches Thor try to gently arrange the furniture without breaking anything. “This is gonna be such a bitch to set up.”

 

Steve side-eyes him. “What? What do you mean?”

 

Tony grins like the literal demon he probably is, and Steve feels like there was something he wasn't told. “Oh, haven’t you heard?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2: Avengers building Ikea furniture. Hehe... you can find me on [ tumblr ](http://capgwen.tumblr.com)! Come cry about Marvel with me! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


End file.
